


Emotion in Motion

by Smittywing (Smitty)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, First Time, Loss of Virginity, Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-09
Updated: 2011-08-09
Packaged: 2018-03-20 16:03:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3656481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smitty/pseuds/Smittywing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt, <i>Darcy's a virgin. It's not a big deal or anything. She just hadn't met anyone worthy of being a first time. This guy Clint, well, he takes anything as a challenge. </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Emotion in Motion

**Author's Note:**

> No real spoilers for _Thor_. (Except that Hawkeye's in it, I guess? Sorry.) This is basically self-beta'd, although reccea originally read through the first 2/3, while laughing at me for making her beta anonymous kink-meme-fic.

_Sex is emotion in motion. ~Mae West_

Darcy isn’t quite sure how she gets herself in these situations.

Actually, that’s a lie.

It started when some guy who looked like he kept his brains in his biceps walked into the lab, looked at a piece of paper in his hand and said, “Uh, is one of you Darcy Lewis?”

Darcy, Jane, and Erik all glared at him. “Maybe,” Darcy said cautiously. “Who wants to know?”

The guy - who appeared to have a LOT of brains - scratched his head. “They sent me to return your iPod,” he said, flashing her lost device in the palm of his hand. “Coulson wants you to stop sending him threatening emails.”

“Oh my god, you brought it back, I take back everything I said about you guys being jackbooted fascist thugs!” Darcy dashed around the table, swept the iPod from the guy’s hand, and grabbed his face to smack a giant kiss on his cheek.

“Wow,” he said. “Do you do that to everyone who returns your electronics?”

“Usually I wait ‘til we’re introduced,” Darcy said, flipping the switch on the top - still charged! All her songs seemed to be intact! Even the playlists were still there!

“Clint Barton.”

“Huh?” Darcy looked up and Biceps-for-Brains was holding out his hand.

“Nice to meet you, Darcy Lewis. I’m Clint Barton.”

“Oh,” Darcy said, putting the pieces together. “Hi.”

“You, uh, wanna grab a cup of coffee?”

Darcy pretty much always wanted to grab a cup of coffee but it turned out Clint had a few more brains in his head than she had originally been going to give him credit for, so coffee turned into dinner and dinner turned into movies and late-night pancakes and a few weeks later, they were watching something on tv, squished together in the giant armchair in Clint’s room in the one motel in town.

Except they really had no idea what was happening on the screen because they’d been making out for the past half hour and Clint was sliding two fingers into her panties and deep up inside of her. And that’s when he murmured against her cheek, “You know, this room has a bed.”

“Oh.” Darcy says with less coherency than she would have preferred. Yes, there was definitely a bed in the room. And she had definitely agreed to come up to his motel room. Although it wasn’t like there were a lot of other places to go. Her rented room was barely big enough for Clint, let alone the both of them, and had a significant privacy problem. Old Mrs. Dunlap was nice but Darcy wasn’t about to bring her boyfriend home for a hot makeout session. The lab wasn’t so much equipped for snuggling, either. Even the roof got a little crowded since Jane had no concept of privacy and okay, fine, they were on a roof. And it’s not like she hadn’t been in Clint’s room twice before without going past second base.

That wasn’t really the point, though. The point was that Darcy had not exactly gotten around to explaining The Situation to Clint and honestly, right now? She wasn’t even sure she wanted to.

“Darce?” Clint’s drawing back, sliding his hands away. “It’s okay.”

“No,” she says in a rush. “Let’s do it.” She presses her mouth against his again and wiggles her hips for good measure.

“Hold up,” Clint says, cupping his big hands around her shoulders and leaning back to study her. Darcy sighs. The gig’s up. She’s going to wind up having to explain The Situation anyway.

Awkward.

“There’s no rush,” Clint says, although his pants are telling a different story. “If you’re not ready....”

“No,” Darcy says. “I think I really am.”

Clint frowns a little. “Think?”

“I am,” Darcy says, feeling it more with the wave of warmth that comes with the way the skin wrinkles between his eyes. “Come on.” She slides off him and grabs his hand and drags him upright. He leans down and kisses her, pulling her all the way up against him and they stumble over to the bed. It’s not far.

Clint sits on the edge and pulls her over him to sit on his lap. “Are you on the pill?” he asks.

“Um,” Darcy says. “You have condoms, right?”

“Yeah.” Clint frowns at her a little and yeah, she’s not faking this as well as she’d hoped. “Darcy, how long has it been since you did this?”

“That’s kind of a personal question,” Darcy hedges, because at this point it’s just a matter of how long she can put off actually having to explain it.

“We’re about to do something really personal,” Clint counters.

Darcy slides back off his lap and away from his hands because he’s holding her really gently and she’s really ridiculously turned on and she feels pretty stupid about the whole thing. “Okay, I don’t want you to get freaked out about this,” she warns. “It’s not a huge thing.” Clint’s little frown is not going away. “I just haven’t really...gotten around to...doing everything. Yet.”

“You’re a virgin?” Clint says.

“I hate that word,” Darcy mutters because it makes her think of the Virgin Mary and Madonna’s Like a Virgin - touched for the very first time - and that’s not exactly what it’s like. “Sort of? I mean, technically it’s probably like three-quarters to two-thirds virgin. I mean, I’ve done _stuff_. Just not, you know, the whole enchilada.”

“You’re a virgin,” Clint says again because he’s a jerk. “And you weren’t going to tell me?”

“I’m not like, waiting for marriage or anything,” Darcy protests. “I just - I didn’t want to be the girl who got knocked up in high school and, well, after you tase a couple of guys for getting fresh at a frat party, you kind of get a rep.”

“You tased a couple of guys at a frat party?” Clint asks, and this time he’s not frowning. One eyebrow is cocked up and he’s trying (not very hard) not to laugh and Darcy really, honestly, does want him to be her first.

“Yeah, well,” she admits, and grins at him.

“God, Darcy,” he says, reaching out to snag her wrist between his fingers and drawing her back between his knees. “You can’t tell me no one asked. You’re beautiful.”

Tears prick in her eyes because no one except her mother and her grandparents had ever just come right out and said it and she _was_ making the right choice. He was just going to be an idiot about it now.

“I don’t know,” she says, blinking the tears away before Clint noticed. “I guess, but they were morons. I didn’t want my first time to be with a moron.”

“But you want it to be with me?” Clint asks like he thinks she just said that or something.

“Oh, my God, can you not make a big deal about this?” Darcy complains, rolling her eyes so she doesn’t have to look at him. “I mean, I just think it’s _time_ and you’re probably not terrible in the sack.”

Clint stands up, crowding her back a step, and kisses her on the forehead. “C’mon,” he says. “I’m taking you home.”

“What?” Rage and disappointment flare in Darcy’s breastbone and she glares up at Clint. “Look, just because I haven’t done it before doesn’t mean I don’t want to do it now.” She gapes at him. “Oh my God. And just because I don’t have a lot of practice doesn’t mean I’m going to be awful! I read! I _think_ about things!”

Clint grins at her. “I know you do,” he says. “So, I’m pretty sure you don’t want your first time to be in my shitty motel room.”

“Oh, really?” Darcy asks. “And have you deflowered a lot of virgins that you know things like this?”

Clint smiles but it’s softer than she’s ever seen it. “Only once,” he says. “I think. In the back seat of a Chevy Caprice.”

“Well, this place definitely has something on a Chevy Caprice,” Darcy says. She’s trying not to feel rejected but she’s not sure how else to take, _I’m taking you home_. They’re sure not going to do it in her tiny daybed with Mrs. Dunlap asleep in the room next to them.

“Yeah, not as much as you’d think,” Clint admits, brushing some hair behind her ear. It probably looks terrible. “I’ll take you out to dinner Friday night. We’ll make a weekend of it. You deserve to have it be special.”

“Oh, God,” Darcy mumbles because her face is hot and she feels ridiculous. “It’s not a big deal. You don’t have to turn it into a _thing_.”

“Look,” Clint says, and he’s still good-natured but there’s something firm in his voice. “You don’t wait this long and then say, oh it doesn’t mean anything. Besides....” He strokes his thumb along the line of her jaw. “Neither of us are big on saying things outright. But I like you. And I don’t want to fuck this up. Okay?”

Darcy sighs and it feels like she’s letting out the very last of her air because her chest is full of something else. “I like you, too,” she admits, slipping her hand into the one he’s using to touch her face. _You don’t have to do this for me to keep liking you_ , is on the tip of her tongue but somehow it never comes out. She holds onto it because it’s true and because maybe this is one of the reasons she really does like him so much. “Okay,” she says, and he kisses her on the mouth.

“C’mon,” he says, squeezing her hand and reaching for his keys. “Let’s get Slurpees on the way back.”

* * *

“Darcy. Darcy. Earth to Darcy. DARCY!”

“What?” Darcy jerks to attention, suddenly aware that the constant hum of Jane’s voice had been directed at her.

“Wow,” Jane says, tossing a folder on the table next to Darcy’s elbow. “Someone must have had a late night last night.”

Darcy checks the folder and oops, it’s holding last night’s readings. The ones she was supposed to have printed out and be entering right now. “Kind of,” she mumbles. Jane’s eyebrow is quirked like she’s still waiting for Darcy to spill some details and okay, Darcy could really use a galpal right now. “Clint’s kind of planning a thing this weekend.”

“What kind of thing?” Jane asks, pulling out the chair across the table and sitting down.

“Like a...together thing,” Darcy says which is really a pretty lame way to put it and she can’t believe she’s going to be shy about it now. “We’re going to have sex.”

“Oh.” Jane blinks. “I...guess this is going to be the first time with him?”

“Yeah,” Darcy says. “I mean, we’ve fooled around and stuff, just not, you know, all the way.” Oh, fuck it. She might as well go for broke. “In fact, that’s kind of a metaphor for my whole - well, it’s not even a metaphor.”

“Oh.” Jane blinks some more. “So you haven’t...ever?”

Darcy sighs and picks up her coffee cup to hide her face. Her coffee’s cold. Blech.

“It’s not a big deal,” Jane says. “I was this skinny little nerd in high school. I couldn’t even get a date for prom.”

“Yeah?” Darcy glares suspiciously over the top of her mug. “So you didn’t...until you were in college?”

“Nope,” Jane confirms. “It was with my lab partner, too. We got drunk on a bottle of - I don’t even know. Whatever vodka comes in twelve dollars a gallon.”

Darcy grins because she knows that vodka and can’t remember the name either. “Was it, you know, okay?”

Jane shrugs and rolls her eyes. “It was weird,” she says. “Then again, he was weird. But it was okay. I mean, I was drunk and we couldn’t stop laughing and it’s not all like, fireworks and sunbeams for the whole thing. There were parts that are kind of boring.”

“Really?” ‘Boring’ is not really something Darcy would associate with sex but with Jane it kind of makes sense.

“I shouldn’t say that,” Jane amends. “ _He_ was kind of boring. It’s more fun when you’re with someone you’re really into.” She bites her lip and glances over at Darcy. “You’re pretty into Clint, though, aren’t you?”

Darcy is really, desperately, pathetically into Clint but she just shrugs and says, “Yeah, kinda.”

“Uh-huh.” Jane leans over and snags Darcy’s coffee cup. “Well, if even if you’re only ‘kinda’ into him, I think a little shopping’s in order.”

Darcy’s not sure what she thinks of Jane seeing right through her nonchalant act, but any excuse to cut out of work to go shopping in the middle of the day sounds good to her. “Great,” she says. “Where do you think is the closest Victoria’s Secret?”

* * *

“This place is kind of fancy,” Darcy says to Clint after they order.

“It’s just a steakhouse,” Clint replies. “I mean, I wanted to take you to that bar in Puente Antiguo, the one with the jukebox, so I could show off playing darts, but it turns out they don’t serve food.”

“Peanuts are food,” Darcy counters. She’s nervous and she’s covering by being extra snarky. It’s basically Clint’s fault - if he didn’t insist on making such a big deal about the whole thing, it wouldn’t _feel_ like such a big deal.

But no, first he drove them all the way out to _Santa Fe_ and checked them into some hotel-with-an-h that had bathrooms bigger then Darcy’s mother’s house, and now they’re ordering really expensive meat at a place that has asparagus as their vegetable of the day.

(“What’s wrong with asparagus?” Clint asks when she mocks it after the waiter’s gone.

“Nothing’s _wrong_ with it,” Darcy says. “But when was the last time Outback served asparagus as their vegetable of the day?”)

“Trust me, the desserts here are better,” Clint says, since apparently the bar (there’s really only one) in Puente Antiguo serves peanuts for appetizers, dinner, _and_ dessert.

“Great,” Darcy says. “Maybe I’ll get orgasms from chocolate and skip the sex.”

For a minute, she thinks Clint is going to say something - he’s got that look on his face - but then he nudges her ankle with his boot and picks up his wineglass. (Wine. They’re drinking wine and it didn’t even come out of a box.) “Darcy Lewis,” he says, and wow, it’s really a good thing they’re tucked away in a dark booth in the corner, “I am going to melt your panties off. Can we drink to that?”

“I would expect nothing less,” she says archly and taps her glass against his. He’s trying to make her feel better, she thinks, and it’s almost kind of working. She’s used to Clint being cocky and full of himself. That much is normal, at least. “I bought new ones just for the occasion.”

“Oh, yeah?” Clint isn’t the kind of guy you think about picking wine but he actually seems to know what he’s doing and likes it. He takes a sip and puts his glass down. “What color?”

They’re the color of the wine, a dark red, and Darcy takes a long, slow sip just to make him wait. It’s really good wine. She takes a deep breath after she sets down the glass and the essence is still there in her mouth. “Blue.”

“I like blue,” Clint says and the waiter shows up with their salads.

“What about you?” Darcy asks when the waiter disappears again.

“What about me what?” Clint asks, his fork already loaded with blue cheese and bacon.

“What color?” Darcy prompts.

Clint grins. “Black.”

“You’re such a tramp,” Darcy tells him, rolling her eyes dramatically.

Clint shrugs. “I know what the girls like.”

Darcy stabs her salad a little harder than she meant to. “Have you been with a lot of girls?” she asks and then wants to kick herself. Of course he’s been with a lot of girls. He’s like, 35.

Clint looks thoughtful. “I wouldn’t say a lot,” he admits. “I’ve had a few longer term things. And I spend a lot of time sneaking around sandy countries in fatigues so that’s cut down on my game a lot.”

“Also you’re a dork,” Darcy offers, taking another sip of the wine and feeling a little better.

“It’s true,” Clint says. He reaches across the table and thumbs the inside of her wrist. “Having you here is definitely upping my cool quotient. You doing okay?”

“Yeah,” Darcy says truthfully and squirms significantly in her seat. “This prolonged foreplay thing is especially fun.”

The steaks (and asparagus) arrive then, so Clint lets go of Darcy’s hand and they attack the food for a bit. Darcy figures she’ll need the protein.

“So how far have you gone?” Clint asks out of the blue.

“What?” Darcy asks, because that was so not what she was expecting.

Clint looks up at her. “You said you’ve done stuff. So what have you done? I like to know my terrain.”

“Terrain?” Darcy almost spits out a mouthful of asparagus. “Are you creating a tactical plan of how to seduce me?”

Clint raises both eyebrows at her and picks up his wineglass.

“Okay, well, this is different,” she admits, and decides to go for the wine herself. It makes her head a little happy and if she drinks too much more of this stuff, she’s not going to be nervous at all. “Um. Well. I’ve given a couple of handjobs. And that thing you were doing the other night before we stopped, with the fingers. That. And, well, you can probably guess that guys like my...chest.” She waves a hand toward the neckline of her dress.

“I like it,” Clint says, staring at it.

“Yeah, so.” Darcy shrugs. “But I read Cosmo. You’re not going to come up with much that’s going to surprise me.” She takes a drink of wine and they’re both quiet for a minute. “Do you think it’s going to hurt? Jane said it might be uncomfortable but since I’m older, it probably won’t really hurt.” She fiddles with the stem of her glass, feeling Clint’s eyes on her. She feels a little ridiculous but it’s what she’s been wondering and apparently she’s had just enough wine to let him know.

Clint pulls one of her hands away from the glass and squeezes it. “I don’t know,” he says. “I’m going to be as gentle as I can but I don’t want to lie to you.”

“Did it hurt the other time?” Darcy asks, thinking of the Chevy Caprice. “The girl, I mean.”

Clint looks distinctly uncomfortable. “Yeah, I think so,” he confesses. “But I was sixteen and she was fifteen and I only sort of knew what I was doing.” He looks like he regrets it and Darcy wants to jump him, inevitable pain or not. “She cried.”

“I promise not to cry on you,” she offers.

Clint grins. “It’s not always a bad thing,” he says and Darcy blushes because she’s read _that_ Cosmo article, too. He leans forward and lowers his voice. “Have you ever been properly eaten out? Not just someone going down on you, a few kisses, I mean, have you had someone spread you open and take you apart? Because I’m thinking that’s going to be my opening move.”

Darcy’s mouth drops open and she feels dizzy with the violence of her arousal. “Can we, um - “ She glances over her shoulder and doesn’t see their waiter anywhere. “Can we go back to the hotel, now?”

“No,” Clint says, leaning back. “I told the waiter it was your birthday. He’s going to bring a cupcake or something. And possibly sing to you.”

“I hate you,” Darcy says flatly, because of course he did. “It’s not even my birthday.”

“I didn’t think you’d appreciate me telling him what we’re really celebrating,” Clint says.

He’s not wrong, dammit, so Darcy smiles stiffly through the waitstaff’s rendition of the birthday song and blows out her candle. The dessert is actually a little lava cake and Darcy doesn’t let Clint have any.

The wind is cool on Darcy’s face when they finally escape that place, calming the heat in her cheeks from the wine and conversation. The hotel is only three blocks away so Clint offers her his arm and they walk it. Clint checked in with their luggage when they got to town, so they can ignore the desk and go straight to the elevators.

“Ever have sex in an elevator?” Darcy asks as they wait for the car to take them to their floor.

“Nope,” Clint replies. “You offering?”

“Really?” Darcy asks without answering his question. ”It totally seems like something you’d do.”

He grins at her and tilts her face up and kisses her until the elevator dings and the doors open on their floor. She drags him down the hall by the hand and punches him in the arm when he pretends like he can’t find the room key in his pockets.

Clint gets the lights as he lets them into the room and closes the door behind them. The second the door’s closed, Darcy pulls his head down and kisses him. He makes a sound against her mouth and slides one hand up the back of her neck and tangles in her hair. She can hear him snapping the deadbolt and latching the chain and then he spins her around and presses her up against the door with his body. He kisses the breath out of her and then makes his way down her neck to her shoulder. His fingers are deft on the zipper at the side of her dress and he braces one hand on the door above her head and leans back to tease the straps off her shoulders.

Darcy can’t take her eyes off his face and the way he watches hungrily for the skin that slips into view. She can feel him hard against her lower stomach and she’s used to this kind of sexuality, clothed and repressed. She eases her arms out of the straps, Clint’s fingers leaving prickly chills on her skin as she moves.

The dress falls to her waist and she pushes it over her hips so it slides down her legs and puddles at her ankles.

“I thought you said they were blue,” Clint murmurs, thumbing the red lace on her hip.

“I wanted to surprise you,” she says.

“I’m surprised,” he assures her. After a long moment, he shifts his attention from her lingerie to her face. “You’re a sweetheart,” he says, pinning her with that laser focus, “even if you don’t want anyone to know.” He leans in and presses his mouth to hers before she can respond and his hands close on her hips and boost her up against the door.

Darcy wraps her legs around Clint’s waist and kicks her shoes off.

“Oh, good,” he says as she leans forward and presses her mouth against the muscle cording his neck, “I’ll try not to not to trip on those.” He presses his hips into her and rocks, and suddenly he’s taking her entire weight, bracing one hand in the small of her back.

“What are you doing?” she asks, reluctantly lifting her head from his throat. He smells good and he tastes good and she’s starting to realize the freedom of not having to worry whether she’s leading him on or if she’s going to have to make him stop. He’s not going to stop, not unless she asks, and she doesn’t want to ask.

“I’m taking you to bed,” Clint says, low and hot in her ear.

“Oh,” Darcy says, because she is completely useless the moment Clint breaks out the sexy dialogue.

“You just keep doing what you’re doing,” he tells her. She laughs against the skin at his throat as he carries her to the bed. It’s much further away from the door than the one in his motel room in Puente Antiguo. When they get there, he tilts her down gently and then drops her from about eight inches up.

“Way to stay classy, Barton,” Darcy says while the bed’s still bouncing. There are like, six pillows under her, so it’s like falling in the bouncy castle at her little cousin’s birthday party.

“Didn’t want you worrying I’d been replaced by a Skrull,” Clint says, pulling his shirt over his head and reaching down to pull at the laces of his desert boots.

He’s gorgeous, corded muscles and golden skin, even when his hair is mussed from removing his shirt and he’s trying to balance on one foot. “What’s a Skrull?” Darcy asks, feeling weirdly possessive of him.

“Uh. I’ll tell you tomorrow,” Clint promises, straightening up and stepping on the heel of one boot to drag his foot out of it. “Trust me,” he adds, sitting on the bed to fuss with the other boot, “it would ruin the mood.”

She does trust him, because when it comes to top secret classified things, Clint pretty much knows what he’s doing. Actually, when it comes to a lot of things, Clint pretty much knows what he’s doing. He finally gets his other boot off and turns to move up over her, bracing himself on either side of her shoulders.

Darcy smiles and reaches for his face, smooth skin under her fingertips where there’s usually stubble, and lifts her head to kiss him.

“Mmm,” Clint rumbles against her mouth and settles himself over her, shifting his weight to one forearm and cupping her breast with his free hand. He’s gentle, massaging it softly and keeps his thumb moving, stroking above the lace edge, then on it and just under it. She can’t help arching into his touch, her nipples aching for some pressure. Instead, he shifts his weight to the other side and starts touching her other breast.

“Oh, my God,” she says when he finally draws out of the long, wet, deep kiss they’ve been sharing and presses his damp mouth to her jawline. “Are you trying to drive me crazy?”

Clint chuckles and if she didn’t already feel the molten throb deep in the cradle of her hips, that would have done it. “Honey, I’ve just gotten started,” he says, shifting against her. He scrapes his teeth against her skin gently and then soothes the place with his tongue when she shivers. “Don’t worry,” he adds, trailing an open-mouthed kiss down to her collarbone. “I’ll take good care of you.”

Darcy brings her knees up on either side of him as he moves lower, nuzzling between her breasts and finally running his tongue over the lace of her bra, over her aching nipple and she bucks up under him.

“Whoa, there,” he murmurs and goes in for another taste, but doesn’t take her bra off, which would really help. She squeezes her legs on either side of him and kicks ineffectually at his hip with the side of her foot.

“I’ve waited this long and now you’re going to tease?” she complains. “You should at last take your pants off.”

At first she doesn’t think he’s paying attention - he sucks one nipple through her bra and then turns her head and sucks on the other, even as she’s rocking her hips under him. But then he pushes up until he’s leaning over her in the pushup position and then sits back.

“All right,” he says. “How close are you?” and drags two fingers between her legs. “Oh.”

Darcy knows she’s wet; she can feel it, she thinks she can smell it. But when Clint presses her panties against her, she feels _soaked_ and when he brings his fingers to his mouth, she shudders and squirms against the sheets.

Clint unfastens his button and fly and stands up to kick his pants down his legs. He’s wearing black boxer briefs and it’s pretty obvious how hard he is. “Let’s get rid of these,” he says, kneeling back up on the bed and hooking his fingers under the sides of Darcy’s underwear. “Lift up.” She does and he drags them to her thighs and suddenly she’s on unfamiliar ground, exposed to his eyes. He doesn’t notice though, and keeps pulling them down her legs and off her feet before tossing them to the side. The hotel room air is surprisingly cool - she wasn’t chilled before - and the heat of Clint’s body is a shock in contrast.

He tucks a hand around her shin and pushes her knee up, then gently presses it down, out to the side, opening her up. Darcy suddenly feels seriously self-conscious and exposed. “Um,” she says, not really sure if she wants him to stop or not.

“What is it?” Clint asks, kissing the inside of her knee. She thinks she’d kind of like for him to do that again.

“Nothing,” she says.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“Oh no. No. You just. Do your thing.”

“All right,” he says. “Just tell me.” Then he leans in and licks right at the _center_ of her and every muscle ties itself up in knots. “Yeah, that’s it,” he murmurs at her strangled gasp. “There’s two things that’ll make this easier. Being wet and being relaxed. This’ll help with both.”

“Oh sure,” Darcy manages. “This is totally relaxing. Like a pina colada at the beach.”

“Stop being so nervous,” Clint says, sucking soft kisses at the crease of her leg. “Talk to me. Tell me what feels good.”

“Easy for you to say,” Darcy mutters. “You know what’s coming.”

“Hopefully you,” Clint says, sliding one finger into her.

“Oh,” she gasps. “That. That’s good.”

Clint sets his mouth to her again, his tongue sketching figure eights around her clit and stroking her inside and out.

“That’s good, too,” Darcy calls softly in the direction of Clint’s head. “Oh, wow.” It’s a little scary that Clint can do this to her body, can make her feel so out of control and so focused all at once. She reaches down and brushes her fingertips through his hair since that’s about all she can reach. It’s hard to tell exactly what he’s doing, only that it either really really works or not really at all. It doesn’t take him long to figure out which are the former, though, and Darcy is grabbing at the sheets under her as shudders run through her, drawing her up tighter and tighter.

The tremors build until she’s stock-still, curled tight with the pressure thrumming under her skin. She feels like she’s about to burst and for a few frustrating moments, she thinks it’s never going to happen and then it does, bleeding slowly through her and then it floods her, stars on the back of her eyelids and air rushing from her lungs as she cries out. Her limbs all go loose and shaky and every stroke of Clint’s fingers or tongue sends violent aftershocks shooting through her until she can gather herself enough to find his hair again and say, “Stop, Clint, stop. Please.”

“Sorry,” Clint says as he surfaces, pushing his way up her body. “Are you okay?” He brushes the hair away from her face and strokes her cheek with his thumb and kisses her with his dirty, dirty mouth that tastes like her, and that just makes her gasp all over again. “Are you all right?” he asks again. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” Darcy says, because how was he going to hurt her like that? “No, I’m fine. I just.” She wraps her arms around Clint’s broad shoulders and holds on for dear life, anchoring herself. He slips one hand under her back, where her waist curves against the sheets, and the other under the back of her head and he just holds her, which is exactly what she wants him to do.

Eventually she becomes aware of his erection, damp against her leg through his boxer briefs, and she takes a deep breath. She doesn’t feel so scattered and a heavy, satisfied, lethargy is settling in her legs and chest. “Wow,” she says, glancing up at the ceiling.

Clint kisses her shoulder and lifts his head. “Got a little intense, huh?” he says. He rubs his thumb against her chin. “Want to go again?”

Darcy shakes her head. She reaches down and finds his cock; wraps her fingers around it through his underwear. He makes a gratifying noise that makes Darcy feel like she has a little bit more control of the situation. “Can I try that with you?” she asks. “I mean. You know.”

“There’s plenty of time for that later,” Clint says against her forehead. He lifts his head and looks down at her. “I’m pretty turned on,” he explains. “If you still want to....”

He’s turned on because of _her_ she realizes. That going down on her and making her come made him _this_ hot.

“Oh, yeah,” she says. “I definitely want to.”

“Okay, let me up for a minute,” he says. Darcy reluctantly lets him go and he pushes himself up and hops off the bed. He hooks his thumbs in the waistband of his shorts and pulls them over his cock and down his legs. It’s not like Darcy’s never seen a naked man before but it’s possible she hasn’t seen one quite _this_ naked and quite this manly and more importantly maybe not this close and moving closer. Darcy reaches back and unhooks her bra as Clint retrieves a condom from a box in the nightstand drawer. She feels his eyes on her as she lets it fall and she watches his hand smooth on the condom instead of lifting her eyes to his face.

“Hey,” Clint says softly and Darcy looks up, expecting him to ask whether he should stop or if she was all right, and she wants to cut him off. But he doesn’t do either of those things. In fact, he doesn’t say anything at all. Instead, he cups his hand around her neck and kisses her.

He stills tastes like her but that’s starting to fade and Darcy reaches up to run both hands into his hair. He moves to kneel between her knees again, the bed dipping with his weight. Darcy lets her head fall back when he moves to her neck and then down to her breasts and yeah, wow, that’s so nice to feel his mouth right on the skin. She arches her hips up and feels him, hot and smooth with latex, bumping up against her hip and she’s about to not be a virgin anymore.

Clint lifts his head from her chest and rests his forearm over her head. “You look gorgeous,” he whispers and kisses her on the mouth. He tucks a hand against the inside of her thigh and pushes her leg toward the bed like he did before. She shifts into the stroke of his fingers and then she feels him guiding himself in, his cock huge and blunt and smooth against her. There’s pressure and for a moment she thinks it’s not going to work for some reason but then she feels herself opening for him, stretching, and Clint’s _inside_ her and holy crap, that’s....

“Darcy?”

Darcy opens her eyes. She’s not even sure when she closed them. Clint’s smiling down at her and when she blinks at him, he rubs his thumb across her lower lip.

“You all right?” he asks. “Does it hurt?”

“No, not at all,” Darcy says. “It’s a little...tight? It just feels full.”

“ _You’re_ tight, honey,” Clint tells her. He rocks his hips and it shifts the way he’s inside her. He does it again and Darcy draws her knees up, and feels him sink even deeper. Clint closes a hand on her knee, urging it higher, until she wraps both legs around his waist and his thrusts increase in speed and surety. Darcy runs her hands over his shoulders and down his arms, feeling the flex of his muscles under the damp skin. She realizes as she tangles her fingers with the hand he has above her head, that his arm is there to protect her from hitting her head on the heavy wooden headboard.

It doesn’t take Darcy long to figure out that rocking against Clint versus rocking with him made each stroke feel different. They fall into a rhythm that starts the inexorable tension building in her again and Clint reaches between them to circle his thumb against her clit. She comes faster this time and it’s not as intense but the aftershocks are stronger and presses herself up close against him, loving the pressure of his chest against her nipples.

“Darcy, sweetheart,” Clint manages as the flush of the orgasm eases away from her. “God, you feel fantastic, honey, but I’m not going to last much longer.”

There’s a note of apology in his voice and Darcy doesn’t know why so she just wraps her arms around his shoulders and says, “It’s okay. It feels good, Clint. Come on. I want you to.”

His breathing goes harsh and he pants into her shoulder as he moves faster and harder and if Darcy hadn’t already come twice tonight and if she wasn’t totally invested in making him feel as amazing as he’d made her feel, and if it wasn’t Clint here with her, well, maybe she could see how this part might feel a little boring, and for that she feels sorry for Jane. But the thing is, Clint is maybe the best guy Darcy has ever dated and she watches him and breathes him in and feels the shudder run through his body as he thrusts into her with a strength that makes her hips ache.

He rocks in and out of her a few more times, softer, more gently, his breath coming fast and hot on her skin as she strokes his hair and then he goes still and lifts his head.

“Hi,” he says, voice scratchy.

“Hey, there,” she replies. She could really use some water but right now she doesn’t want to move and she doesn’t want him to move either.

“You all right?” he asks for approximately the one zillionth time that night and Darcy doesn’t even mind.

“Yeah,” she says. “I’m good. That was - “ There are a lot of words and she doesn’t know which ones to use suddenly. “That was really good,” she finishes lamely and then recovers with, “Had I known it would be this good, we would have been doing this weeks ago.”

He smiles at her and leans down to kiss her. Her mouth is dry and his mouth is dry and she’s starting to get a little uncomfortable but she still tightens her legs around him when he goes to move.

“I gotta get up for a sec,” he says and she releases him reluctantly. He slides out of her,which makes her feel weirdly empty and hollow for a moment, and then he’s turning away and she hears the snap of the condom. He goes to the bathroom and calls, “You need anything?”

“Um, a glass of water would be good,” Darcy calls back. She glances down at herself. Her body’s damp and her breasts are flushed red. She aches a little inside and her hips and thighs feel sore and really, she’s starting to feel like every muscle in body tensed up for hours and is only now starting to relax. Which is probably not that far from the truth. She pulls the top sheet back and slides under it, pulling it up over her breasts. She runs her hand through her hair and presses her legs together and waits for Clint to come back.

Water runs in the bathroom and Clint returns, apparently far more comfortable with his own nudity than she is with hers, and hands her a glass of water. “Here you go,” he says, waiting until she brings it to her mouth and then crawls in beside her. She stays turned toward the nightstand while she drinks the whole glass so she can put it down but Clint, behind her, traces a finger down her spine and presses a soft kiss to her shoulderblade. “It gets better,” he murmurs. “You learn what you like. Your partner learns what you like. You learn what he likes. You learn to trust each other. You try new things.”

“I want to try everything,” Darcy says, because Clint is clearly under the impression he has to sell her on the idea. She puts the glass down, sliding down on her stomach and then turns on her side to face him. The words rush out of her before she can stop them. “I want to try it with you. This weekend.”

Clint grins and leans forward for a kiss. “That,” he says, “is why I got a hotel with room service.”

The End  



End file.
